


Do not trust him

by orangetree



Category: South Park
Genre: AU, Doppelganger, Infidelity, M/M, Mental Health Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-10-05 04:35:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20482970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orangetree/pseuds/orangetree
Summary: “I'm not crazy.” His voice slightly shook and he was trying to steady it. “But I don't feel like this Tweek I live with, is my Tweek.” He felt tears in his big brown eyes, threatening to roll down freckled cheeks. “Nothing feels real to me anymore, I question everything around me.” He added trying not to cry. “Sometimes I wish I could make it all go away.” He admitted. “I wish I wasn’t here anymore so I didn’t have to feel like this.” His voice was barely audible.





	Do not trust him

Trying to hold it together had been weighing on him. He was never the strong one, the one who made the decisions, the one who kept together. That was Tweek. He was the one who made sure the bills got paid and he worked so hard to finish his degree. He wanted to be someone Craig could be proud of and he was. He wished he had an ounce of Tweek’s strength.

He thought about his strong hands and the way he kissed him. The way he wasn’t perfect and that was ok, he welcomed it. Maybe he smoked too much spliff, maybe he studied all night and they didn’t get to spend time together the way they used to, but that's ok too. He liked when they found time to cuddle up together on the couch and listen to music. Manchester Orchestra on low on their cheap little record player. Tweek’s arm around his waist, his nose nuzzled into his shaggy dark hair. He smelled like coffee and sweet earth marijuana and wool from the lumpy sweaters Craig would knit him at work when things were slow. Kept your fingers nimble for playing the viola, it was a good exercise his middle school orchestra teacher suggested to him. Tweek wore all his lumpy sweaters with pride. 

Now he was hiding from Tweek. He had changed, he didn’t know what was real anymore. His therapist told him it was a side effect of the new medication they had put him on. He had always had a touch of melancholy, but that bloomed into full blown depression during his teenage years. With regular therapy and medication, he had a good handle on it. He hadn’t lately though. He spent most of his time alone, curled up under a blanket at Kenny’s, Stan and Kyle’s. Hiding from his problems, hiding from his boyfriend, hiding from everything.

Stan had always been on the edge of his life. They weren’t great friends in their younger days, one would even call them rivals. But around middle school, when they combined their groups, something had changed. Stan wasn’t a great leader and neither was he, it was so much easier to let Kyle and Cartman lead them. Then eventually, the group splintered again. He drifted towards Kenny, Stan, Tweek and Kyle. Jimmy and Token fall into the popular clique with their girlfriends and Clyde and Cartmand joined up with the jocks. Craig had no real plan, he had no real passions. He liked the viola, Studio Ghibli films and gardening. It was soothing, hands in the fresh earth, arranging pretty flowers. He found a job at a floral shop after school ended and Tweek went onto college.

The store was tiny, only the owner and him. There were times they needed a little extra help and Stan lived on a pot farm. He knew how to grow things, but mostly, he knew how to do grunt work. Move shelves, bags of soil. He stayed after one night with Craig and helped him do inventory. It was thankless, tedious work. It was so repetitive and irritating and Stan patiently went through it with him. He made sure everything was accounted for and he even paid for their pizza and soda that kept them awake. At the end of the evening, both of them covered in soil, groggy with a late night. Stan walked him to his little blue bug car and made sure he pulled out of the parking lot first. 

He was thinking about Stan lately. He was alone and lonely and afraid. Stan was a good friend, he was there for him and he let him talk and fuck was he not good at that. But he was a good listener and that made him feel less alone in this fucked up world. He was going to bring him a little succulent in a terrarium and a bottle of rose wine. He packed it all up in his little car and he drove over to Stan’s little walk up apartment. He knew he wouldn’t mind the intrusion or maybe he would and he would be too polite to tell him to fuck off. But here he was, at 10:30 at night on a Tuesday evening, visiting the only friend that made him feel like a person anymore. 

“Hey, I wanted to bring you this. As a thank you.” He added when Stan opened the door and he had this smile on his face. This smile that made everything feel like it was going to be ok. This smile as they walked in and sat on his couch and he looked over the terrarium. He poured him the rose in a coffee mug, because he was twenty two and didn’t have any glasses that were clean.

“I'm really happy you’re here Craig, I've been worried about you.” He did look worried, he could see it in his big dark blue eyes. He was there for him and he could talk to him right? He wanted to talk to someone. He wanted to be happy again, he wanted to feel something again. He wanted he wanted he wanted. He was selfish and he wanted things and he should be asking Tweek what he wanted.

But he didn’t ask him. He didn’t want to ask him anything right now. He wanted to feel something, he wanted to feel like he mattered in the world because he surely didn’t lately anymore.

“Can I tell you something?” He looked down at his hands clutching the coffee cup. Stan was your typical hipster with a beanie hat and craft beer complex. But he looked so open and concerned in that moment. He was turned towards him and his body language was open and honest. Craig reached out and put his hand in Stan’s. He squeezed his gently and laced their fingers together.

“Of course Craig, anything.” The timber of his voice was soothing, his presence was soothing, everything was soothing. He wanted to melt into him and he wanted to grab onto him, he wanted him to feel solid and real and he needed that. 

“I'm not crazy.” His voice slightly shook and he was trying to steady it. “But I don't feel like this Tweek I live with, is my Tweek.” He felt tears in his big brown eyes, threatening to roll down freckled cheeks. “Nothing feels real to me anymore, I question everything around me.” He added trying not to cry. “Sometimes I wish I could make it all go away.” He admitted. “I wish I wasn’t here anymore so I didn’t have to feel like this.” His voice was barely audible. 

“Craig.” He heard Stan start. He looked perplexed, like he didn’t know where to start. “I just want you to know that I would really miss you if you weren’t here anymore.” He took the cup of rose out of Craig’s hands and put it on the table. “You’re so smart and so deep. You're such a good listener and so creative.” Craig just shook his head at the compliments. That’s what friends did, they complimented each other, they reassured each other. 

“You’re so beautiful.” Stan’s voice shook this time. “You’re the most beautiful person I've ever seen in my life.” He tilted Craig’s chin up so he could look him in the eye. “The world would suck if you weren’t here, just please, stay one more day.” He kept his fingers on his chin, kept his eyes on his.

He debated what to say next, he debated if he wanted to say anything at all. He just sat there for a moment and soaked in what Stan told him. It washed over him like a cool rain after a shitty day. It made him tethered to this planet, he made him feel not alone.

He put one of his hands on Stan’s shoulders to steady himself, rested his forehead to Stan’s. He nuzzled his nose against his for a moment and he closed his eyes. He pressed his lips to Stan’s, gentle and exploring. He was trying it out, seeing if it was all real. Stan’s hands were on his waist, pulling him closer, pulling him so their bodies were flush against each other. He took it one step further, he was the one that initiated more.

He pushed himself in Stan’s lap, pressing his thin frame against his solid one. He pressed himself so he was flush against Stan, wrapping his legs around his waist. Their soft gentle kissing was growing frantic, needy. His lips were parted and Stan’s tongue was exploring his mouth. He wanted him, he wanted this and it was so good. He hadn’t felt like this in so long, he wanted someone like this in so long. He hadn’t felt anything in so long. He felt exploring hands under his sweater, over his back, along the divots of his spine. Stan’s fingers were gentle, he was so gentle, trying to be careful with him. His mouth was going down his jawline, down to his exposed throat.

“Don't mark me Stan.” He whimpered softly tugging gently at the black hair at the nape of Stan’s neck. “Please.” He moaned softly as he pressed his hips against Stan’s, rolling them needily. “Fuck me Stan, god I need you.” He felt gentle kisses on his throat, on his collarbones. Those were the spots Tweek liked too. Tweek liked to grip his hips, press him against him. Tweek wasn’t here, Tweek wasn’t real, Tweek was this imaginary person he dreamed up right? Stan was real, Stan was here, Stan’s erection was grinding against him. He felt Stan’s hands under his shirt, up and down his sides, pressing into his ribs, his flat stomach, up his bony chest. He felt his thumbs brush against his little brown nipples, hardening into little buds. Little spasms of pleasure were bursting under his skin, he needed more. He needed to feel more, feel real, be real. 

Stan picked him up unsteady for a moment, his legs still wrapped around his waist. He took him into a messy little bedroom with clothes on the floor and a coffee cup on the bedside table. He laid him down on an unmade bed with blue and white striped sheets and he reached for him. He was greedy with greedy little hands and he wasn’t ready to be apart from him just yet. His sweater was being pulled off, over his head and tossed into the pile of clothing. Stan ran his hands down his chest, like he was savouring it this time, every bit of his exposed skin. He felt tears in his eyes again for a moment, he looked up and saw the only person that made sense to him right now, the only person who seemed to understand him and he was thinking about Tweek. He was kissing down his body, he was unbuttoning his skinny jeans and pulling them down over his sharp little hip bones, over his skinny legs. He had gotten thinner, his eyes had bags under them. He wasn’t beautiful, he wasn’t a good person. He was a slut and he was selfish and he was using this boy. But it was so good in the moment, he wasn’t thinking about tomorrow past tonight. He needed this, he needed to feel real. 

Stan slid his jeans off and laid between his skinny legs, there was nothing between them now, it was just skin on skin. He was fumbling with a bottle of lube, clumsily using too much, he would never want to hurt Craig. He wanted it to be gentle and loving, he had waited for this for so long. From the moment in the eight grade when he realized Craig Tucker was the most beautiful person he had ever seen. With his big doe eyes and his soft freckled skin, he longed and yearned for him. He knew he loved Tweek, they had been together since the fourth grade and now they were engaged. But Craig was here in his bed, panting and moaning his name. This was his moment, this was everything had wanted and he wanted it to last. He wanted to savour every moment he had Craig Tucker in his bed.

Craig didn’t share this sentiment. He wanted it hard and fast. He wanted to be fucked into the mattress, the headboard hitting the back wall. He wanted it to rattle some sense and feeling into his skin and his skinny little frame and his stupid fucking cloudy brain. He was trying to push himself onto Stan’s fingers, he wanted more. He wanted Stan to hurry up so he wouldn’t have to think about it. He wouldn’t feel guilty, he just wanted Stan in that moment, he didn’t want to think about what this all meant. Just fuck him until he felt alive.

“Please Stan just come on.” He put his hands on Stan’s chest, stroking over his chest hair. He pulled him closer, a little hitch in his breath when Stan pushed in. The first thrust was always the best as he bottomed out. The rhythm was unsteady at first, they were finding their footing with each other. Soon it was frantic and hard and deep. He hadn’t been fucked like this in months, he hadn’t felt like this in months. He looked up at Stan through heavy lidded eyes, he saw Tweek. He saw his Tweek fucking him like he knew he liked, he buried his face in the junction between Craig’s throat and shoulder. Daddy was home, he would take care of him like he used to. He would cum like he used to. He missed him, he needed him. It was too hard on his own, he didn’t know what to do, who could trust. 

“Harder daddy.” He whimpered. He would take care of him. His Tweek was home. Was he though? Was this his grief stricken mind playing tricks on him again. He was so alone, even now, he felt alone. No, he couldn’t think, this was why he did this. Why he came over to see Stan, he would distract him. This was going to distract him, he had to get out of his head. 

“Fuck me Stan.” He dug his nails into Stan’s back, pulling him closer. He wanted to get as close as possible, he wanted to disappear into this. Stan gripped his hips, lifting them off the bed, he was harder and deeper and it was so good, it was so good and he wasn’t thinking anymore. It was Stan’s skin and his groaning and his name on his lips. He felt Stan cumming inside of him, this heavy wetness and his own hand between them, he had to get off. He just had to get off and he felt everything going into this tunnel vision. It was all pinpointing down to this hazy waves of pleasure and he came with Stan’s name on his lips. Stan did that and it was all he needed.

Then it was over. It was all over, he was in a bed that wasn’t his with another man’s cum in his ass. It was overwhelming for some reason, he just felt this wave of emotion. He felt tears stinging his doe eyes, running down his cheeks. He was sobbing before he knew it, it all hit him at once. He was sobbing in his friends bed, onto his chest and he felt Stan stroking his hair. He was trying to calm him down but he didn’t know how. He didn’t know how to move on from this, how to make it better. He curled up in Stan’s arms, he was just so tired. He just needed to rest for a moment.

“Im sorry Stan.” He murmured against his skin and he kissed the top of his head. Stan was there for him, it wasn’t perfect conditions, it wasn’t a perfect situation. It was confusing and lonely and hard. Maybe he was going crazy. 

“Just rest, we’ll figure it out tomorrow.” Stan’s tone was certain either, nothing was certain in this moment. But tonight, he would fall asleep in someone’s arms and tomorrow he would wake up again and go from there. That’s all he could do right now. Just go day by day.

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on Kuroxan's Not Tweek comic series. Yes, there are mature themes. Yes, there is infidelity. Yes, this is short but not very sweet. 
> 
> Happy first day of Bottom Craig Week folks!


End file.
